


Reaching Out

by Starlight-Moonlight-Sunshine (Thetallblondeone)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: References to Depression, how can primus be so sad, rung needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 05:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17258762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thetallblondeone/pseuds/Starlight-Moonlight-Sunshine
Summary: A gift for dimmeddown on tumblr for secret solenoid.basically rung is sad.





	Reaching Out

**Author's Note:**

> based on this prompt: Rung knows he's spiralling into depression again, and tries to get someone to talk to about it- Ratchet, Ultra Magnus and even Megatron. They are all either busy, or don't want to/ aren't capable. Rung attempts to deal with how mechen percieve him, and his own self worth.

He can feel it again. He can’t feel.

The undertow pulling his pedes, the ground crumbling along fault lines chiselled by his own hand. Or was it not his. Did the circumstances of depression really define its ability to cause pain? Because that’s what it was. Depression. It sounds so cold, clinical when put like that, a disease that breaks mecha apart. It was supposed to be his job to pick up these eggshell fragments of memories, moments, thoughts and glue them together with his paper paste of kind words, introspective thinking, self-care and to try and find the person the pieces once made. Or to fashion a new one. A better one.

And yet here he is. The student has become the master. To study the broken is a dangerous pursuit as it uncovers the seams in one's own mind. 

Of course he tried to reach past the icy waves, to share his burden. It didn’t work.  
The closest thing he had to a friend, the mutual acceptance and recognition of healing work shared between psychiatrists and medics, was not enough to drag Ratchet from the medbay. 

“I’m busy.” 

The words are both a bullet to the heart and a lover’s embrace. The familiar caress of not being important enough. Good enough. Enough. It’s comforting to know you can rely on people not to change. It’s nothing personal of course, it never is. It’s not Ratchets fault that in his triage of injuries, those to the unperceivable mind are left to fester. It wasn’t meant to hurt, he even remembered his name.

“I’m sorry Ring”  
Primus. You can put a patch over a sore but it still exists. 

He can’t blame Ultra Magnus either. The mech wasn’t built with the same social coding as him, feelings made him squeamish. Their conversation didn’t make it past Can I talk to you as a friend. 

“I can’t”

A moment of weakness, of longing for understanding, makes him breach what is acceptable. Asking a patient for help. Someone who surely understands being outcast, who knows the pain. But how can a float, a lifesaver, expect a dead body to save it. Megatron does not know, can not know how to help because he breathes the guilt; savouring the knowledge he is suffering as so many did because of his war. He is here to be judged and no more.

It’s not their fault. It is not his fault. It can’t be helped.

He is invisible to the crew, they don’t see him walking the halls alone. His jokes get ignored. Patients he has worked on for years, who he has picked up more times than they were dropped, can hardly remember his name. Ring, Rong, Wrung, Rang, Wrong. All wrong. Who knew four little letters could be so easy to forget. R for Real. U for Undervalued. N for Neglected. G for Glasses. 

Like a ladder.

Stepped on by everyone, a means to an end.

It has to end soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my first ever transformers work.


End file.
